


Where There's Hope

by NotPatrick



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Imprisonment, Kidnapping, Physical Abuse, Starvation, discussion of body image, discussion of weight loss, it wont make much sense without reading the fic, this is a one shot related to a longer fic, weight loss
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 05:08:02
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29413149
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NotPatrick/pseuds/NotPatrick
Summary: A one shot describing Rey's kidnap and imprisonment at the hands of Snoke from her perspective. Non-graphic mentions of rape, abuse, imprisonment and starvation with explicit crochet content.This is a one-shot from Rey's perspective that takes place two years before my longer fanfic Hoping Against Hope (a fanfic that will one day become a reylo fic but that currently is more plot than relationship). It won't make much sense without knowledge of events in that fanfic because I do not explain things in much detail here.
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10





	Where There's Hope

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written anything from Rey's perspective or greatly detailing her imprisonent in my fanfic Hoping Against Hope but I still wanted to so I have added it here. It takes place two years before her escape and the events in that story so in this fic Rey is 19 and has been imprisoned for 5 years.
> 
> The character she calls Mark is actually Snoke (he has told her a fake name- it makes sense in connection with Hoping Against Hope). 
> 
> I hope you enjoy this!

The light turned on at 6am as it always did.

Rey hated it.

After five years she still was pulled from her sleep by the harsh brightness, no matter how many layers she piled on her head or how deeply she burrowed into the depths of her bed. The change from complete darkness to the glaring white was so intense that she could not grow used to it.

With a groan Rey slid further into her bed, trying to enjoy the merger comfort it provided her, her arms locked tightly around her crocheted Moomin. It was misshapen and no longer as white as it had been when she first made it but Rey loved it nonetheless; it was the first thing she had made down there and served as her very best friend, keeping her company and soaking up any tears that made their way out of her eyes.

Cracking one eye open Rey peeped out from underneath her duvet, surveying her surroundings. Everything was as it should be, grey soundproofed walls barely visible behind bookshelves and pictures, embroidery hoops and shelves of knick-knacks made during the long, lonely hours. Her little kitchenette was equally undisturbed, the shiny white counters cleaned until not a single speck of dirt remained on them. It was all as it should be.

She only allowed herself to wallow in bed on special occasions, on the very worst days when her heart choked her and the despair of her situation stopped her from breathing.

But today wasn’t one of those days and she had to get up, she had to face another day Too many days in bed eventually worsened her distress and made living unbearable. She had learnt that the hard way.

Rey crawled out from the corner of the bed she slept in and traveled the endless expanse of the mattress to the other side. When her soft feet sunk into the fluffy rug that covered nearly the entire floor of her dungeon she wiggled her toes happily. Before Mark had brought her this she had been permanently chilled by the concrete floor. She was always going to be grateful for it.

Silently she crossed the room and pulled back the curtain that hid her little bathroom from view, eyeing it all warily but nothing seemed to have been touched while she slept.

There was no subtlety to the shower in her dungeon. Rey could either choosing boiling hot or freezing cold. She hated cold, it remined her too much of the early days when he would take away the heating for reasons she didn’t understand then.

Hot was good though. Hot made her feel clean. Helped her wash him off her.

Her stomach rumbled as she washed but Rey ignored it. Mark had given her a piece of cake when he brought her back down last night she was meant to eat today but she had eaten it immediately. She always tried to ration her food and stick to meal times but there were times she couldn’t do it. Hunger made her brain foggy.

Everything made her brain foggy.

Stepping out of the shower she wrapped herself up in her towel immediately, unwilling to walk around unclothed.

Her pajamas went straight into the basket to be washed the next time Mark let her. She didn’t want to look at them right now. A loose, flowing dress covered her back up, brown flowers on cream with brown buttons down the middle. Loose clothes were her favourites, hiding her painfully thin body beneath beautiful patterns. It was a good thing Mark liked them too.

Rey supposed he liked how fragile she looked in them.

A cardigan she had made herself hid her arms and staved off the chill. She understood the rules better these days and knew how to be good so that he left the heating on but it was never quite enough to fight off the cold seeping in from the walls. Underground was always colder.

As she brushed her teeth to remove the taste of her empty stomach from her mouth Rey turned on the radio, hoping to catch the morning news.

The radio had been the very best present he had ever given her, even better than the rug or the bed or the television. She wasn’t allowed to watch tv, only use it for DVDs, but she could listen to the radio. To hear the shows other people did, follow the news and know the sports scores helped her stay sane more than anything else did. Out there, beyond the trap door and the garage and the walls, other people listened to the same things as she listened to them and that made her heart soar. It was a weak connection to the world outside, but it was all she had.

“Morning, baby.” Rey greeted her Moomin as she dug him out from her bed and laid him on the neatly made covers, resting against the pillows.

It was how it was meant to be. Beds made perfectly, sheets smooth and pillows plumped. Moomin was allowed to sit on the bed because Rey slept with him and Mark didn’t mind that.

It was the other dolls he hated.

Rey crouched down beneath her bed and pulled out the box she had filled with her crochet materials. In a place where space was precious she kept all her craft materials tucked away down there, in boxes decorated with pictures from magazines.

After a glance at the clock Rey pulled out her current project, a patchwork quilt, and settled into her tiny armchair to listen to the radio and work quietly.

It was meditative, to slip into a focused state and stitch quietly, the sound of other voices filling the space in head an becoming gentle background noise. She slipped in and out of daydreams, fragments of memories sliding across her mind before sliding away again, no one thought settling down. Time passed quicker when she slipped away like this, tucking herself away into a quiet little space in her head, filled with warm air and vague thoughts.

When she next looked up it was already 9 and she could begin her real project.

Occasionally Mark visited her in the morning, to bring her some food or a present or simply to visit her. Sometimes he just sat at her little table and watched her for hours, pottering about in her dungeon.

Those days she couldn’t do any of her things that he hated. Breaking the rules hurt.

By 9 he would always have left for his job however and she was safe until he came home.

Abandoning her blanket piece Rey dug into her crochet box until she fond what she wanted; a half finished doll resembling her mother.

The very first time she had made a doll version of her parents they had been so awful she had been almost happy to see Mark angrily cut them up, hacking her father’s head into pieces with his scissors as he ranted about how her parents didn’t miss her, how they had never looked for her and how they had moved on to live better lives without her.

But that was years ago and she was getting better at it every time he found them and destroyed them. She was getting better at hiding them too. Her last two had been really rather accurate and seeing them get burnt up had broken her heart. When he had thrown the hot ashes in her face afterwards she was glad she could pretend her tears were caused by that and not her disappointment.

He really, _really,_ hated seeing her cry.

She didn’t understand why. Surely someone as cruel as him would rejoice in being confronted with the suffering he was causing her. Instead though he would rub at her face until she stopped crying in fear or hold her face under running water until her tears blended with the water. Tears, fighting back, asking for food or about her family, those all broke the rules.

Rey still wasn’t sure what all the rules were yet. She was well acquainted with the consequences of breaking them but she had no real way to avoid that, no when she didn’t understand. Over the years she had worked some of it out but other still seemed a mystery and appeared to change depending on his whims. The wrong plates on the table had been the right ones yesterday but she hadn’t been told.

There had been times she could hardly sleep, every part of her body ringing with pain and her heart screaming for her parents.

Instead of her parents though there was only the arms of the man hurting her and his empty words of comfort as he rocked them slowly together, stroking her arms with cold hands and bringing her some new present as an apology.

Time flew as Rey worked at her doll, carefully sewing in black strands of wool for her mother’s hair and plaiting yellow together and making it into the gold necklaces Maz always wore. When it started to really take shape she buried it back into the box and tucked everything away again. She couldn’t make too much progress each day or else she wouldn’t have anything to look forward to tomorrow. Things like that had to be rationed.

Casting an eye over her books Rey decided against reading something today. She just wasn’t really in the mood. Instead she curled up under a blanket on her chair with Moomin and watched TV, one of her many box sets sitting on the little television that rested on her chest of drawers.

She quickly became so engrossed in it that she almost missed the sound of creaking above the trapdoor. In her mind she could picture what was happening. First the car would be driven out of the garage, then the fake flooring was pulled back to reveal a huge padlock securing a thick trapdoor. Then Mark would unlock it and open up the entrance to her dungeon to disturb her fragile peace and it would all begin all over again.

Rey turned off her show and got up on weak legs, years of starvation robbing her of her strength for a moment. She could only see a tiny bit beyond Mark as he climbed down the ladder but there was still a tiny ray of sunlight creeping across the garage.

Rey closed her eyes and imagined herself standing in the sun in her own garden. Home and safe once again.


End file.
